


T is for Trite

by Janieshi



Series: Alphabet [20]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, F/M, Female Friendship, Love Confessions, Male-Female Friendship, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-09 23:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17414387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janieshi/pseuds/Janieshi
Summary: In which Havoc is drugged at a bar, Catalina struggles to get him home safely while avoiding pursuit, and Hawkeye is a good bro.





	T is for Trite

_Trite/trīt/ adjective - (of a remark, opinion, or idea) overused and consequently of little import; lacking originality or freshness._

* * *

 

A pretty brunette sat alone at the bar, sipping on what appeared to be a gin and tonic. Clearly lost in thought, she gazed into the middle distance, ignoring the admiring glances of more than a few of her fellow bar patrons.

Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc glanced quickly around, making sure none of his comrades were about to witness what was sure to be another spectacular failure. Only then did he swagger over to the dark-haired woman and lean in close.

“So, what’s a gorgeous girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, in his most suave tone.

“Hmm, trite pickup lines,” Catalina mused. “Just what a woman wants to hear. Considering it’s you, Jean, I can’t say I expected anything else.”

 In spite of her scathing words, Catalina was fighting a smile. Havoc grinned somewhat sheepishly as he slid onto the stool next to hers.

“Joking aside, though, _are_ you here alone?” he asked. “I thought you were supposed to be meeting up with the Lieutenant tonight.”

“Change of plans,” she replied mournfully. “Colonel Useless-When-Wet needed her for something at the last minute. How about you; you here all by your lonesome? Wait, let me guess: you’re looking for the Ms. Right of the evening,” she teased.

Havoc winced. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t _actually_ a fan of one-night stands. He just seemed to have a knack for picking up women who wanted little else from him.

“Nah, I hoped I’d maybe run into Breda or someone,” he said. “No fun drinking alone, you know?”

The bartender approached then, and placed a tall, bright blue drink in front of Catalina.

“Oh, but I didn’t—” she started to object.

“Courtesy of the gentleman at the opposite end, there,” the bartender explained, giving her a saucy little wink.

Catalina and Havoc both turned to appraise the man in question, who smiled in what was probably meant to be a seductive manner. Catalina just found it faintly creepy.

Havoc thought the other guy was being awfully presumptuous, buying a drink for a lady who clearly already _had_ male company and then leering at them to boot. He took advantage of Catalina’s hesitation and snagged the drink for himself. Raising the glass in a cheeky toast to the (now chagrined) man who’d purchased it, he drained half of the obnoxious concoction in one long gulp.

“Ugh,” he shuddered.   _“Way_ too sweet. What the hell is in this thing, anyway?” he wondered, staring down at the glass with dismay. But the bartender had already moved away to serve someone else.

“Hey, get your own drinks, you freeloader,” Catalina said, swatting at his arm.

“Let me make it up to you,” he offered, smiling. “I’ll buy you another of – what’re you drinking? G&T?”

“Mm-hm. With an extra lime,” Catalina said.

Havoc beamed at her, happy he’d guessed correctly. Rebecca refused to acknowledge the flood of affectionate warmth that his goofy little grin sent through her.

While she mentally stomped out the butterflies in her stomach, Havoc leaned forward to catch the bartender’s eye and gestured at Catalina’s empty glass with a raised eyebrow. The bartender nodded his acknowledgment and reached for Catalina’s preferred brand of gin. She watched him prepare the new drink, studiously ignoring the man at her side. Who was now staring at her, damn his stupid handsome face.

“Did it hurt?” he asked.

“Beg pardon?” she replied, startled into looking at him. Havoc grinned again.

“Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven?”

 Rebecca snorted.

“Seriously, Jean?” she said.

“You must be tired,” he tried next. “Cuz you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

“Oh my god, really?” Rebecca wondered what was wrong with her that she found Jean’s cheesy lines endearing rather than annoying.

“If I told you that you have a nice body, would you hold it against me?” Havoc let his gaze travel quickly over her curves and followed it up with a cheeky wink.

Rebecca laughed outright.

“Okay, that one is new,” she admitted. “And **no** ,” she added, smacking his arm again. Undeterred, Havoc rubbed absently at the sore spot even as he fired off another line.

“Say, can I borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back,” he said innocently.

“Do lines like that ever _actually_ work?” Rebecca wanted to know.

“Made ya laugh, didn’t they?” Jean retorted.

“You’re an idiot.”

“You know you like it,” he countered.

Heaven help her, but she really did. Rebecca watched out of the corner of her eye as Jean took another deep draught of the too-sweet cocktail. He swallowed with an effort, features twisted into an expression of distaste.

“That bad, huh?” she sympathized. Some of those fruity cocktails were truly vile. “You don’t have to drink it, you know.”

“I couldn’t just sit by and let you suffer,” he smirked, glancing toward the gentleman at the other end of the bar. “And besides, I didn’t want to disappoint my admirer.”

“Who says I’d suffer? I could’ve refused it,” she argued.

“Sure, but you wouldn’t have. You’d have choked it down so he didn’t feel bad, and then you woulda gone over to thank him even though you didn’t like it.”

“I would _not_ …well, okay, I probably would’ve,” she conceded. “Flat-out ignoring him would just be rude, wouldn’t it? He did buy me a drink; common courtesy dictates that I at least thank the man.”

“Psh, if he wanted you to _thank_ him, then he shoulda asked the bartender to make you another of what you were already drinkin’ rather than jussht picking a random cocktail,” Havoc scoffed. “Even though it’s jusshta drink, he coulda put in some effort.”

Rebecca narrowed her eyes. Was he slurring? That had certainly hit him quickly.

“Well, I appreciate you taking one for the team, Jean,” she said, teasingly. “At least you’re a cheap date.”

Except…he _wasn’t_ , though. She’d been out drinking with Riza and her teammates several times before. And while he didn’t exactly drink like a fish, Havoc was no lightweight, either. Just what in the hell had been _in_ that drink? Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t tried to choke it down out of politeness, after all.

Havoc was frowning now, and looking down at his own hands as if he’d never seen them before. He blinked a few times, and then shook his head.

“Huh,” he huffed. “Thiss blue thingy shure’s _strong.”_

Yeah, he was definitely slurring his words now.

“Jean, how much had you had to drink before you came here?” Rebecca asked, concerned.

“I didn’t…I came shraight here after work,” he said.

 “Have you not eaten today? Actually, you look a little pale…you coming down with something, maybe?”

“Must be,” he murmured, half to himself. “I-uh, I think I’d better go, Becca. I’m not feeling s’ good.”

“Hang on, I’ll call you a cab,” she said, looking around for the bartender.

“’S’alright; I didn’t drive. The fresh air oughta clear my head,” he said, swaying slightly as he stood. “I’ll, uh, I’ll make it up to you next time, huh?” he added as he clumsily peeled off a few bills for her drink. She waved him away.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, still frowning. “See you tomorrow?”

“Sure. G’night, Becca.”

“Night.”

Still concerned, Rebecca craned her neck to watch him leave. When he stumbled over the threshold and then paused to lean heavily against the front entryway, she obeyed her instincts and grabbed her things. She couldn’t let him go home alone like that.

“Whoa there, better take my arm, Jean,” she said when she caught up to him. “You sure you weren’t drinking before you got here?”

The little kernel of concern in her belly grew exponentially at the way his head lolled when he turned to look at her.

“Hmm? Oh. Nope. Dint wanna drink all by myself. S’lonely,” he said. He blinked slowly at her, and then closed one eye as if to help him focus on her face. “Hey, couldja hold still, Becca? Makin’ me all dizzy, movin’ ‘round like that.”

“You feeling nauseous or anything?” she asked, starting to worry in earnest. Dizzy _and_ disoriented, now…

“No, m’okay,” he reassured her. He tried to smile again, but the sheer _wrongness_ of it made Catalina’s stomach twist in fear.

Havoc’s pretty blue eyes were glassy and devoid of their usual sparkle. A flush had crept across his cheekbones, though the rest of his face was drained of color. He looked really ill, or drugged, or…oh, **_fuck_**.

There’d been reports, recently. Of people waking up in alleyways with unexplained cuts and bruises, torn and rumpled clothing, missing their belongings and a good portion of their memories from the night before. All of the victims had been drinking, and most of them had sworn up and down that they’d never gotten drunk like this before. Military Investigations was beginning to believe they’d been targeted intentionally - drugged, rather than merely being taken advantage of while too inebriated to defend themselves.

Rebecca thought about the bright blue drink as she stared into Jean’s vacant eyes. Had…had he inadvertently taken a drugged drink that was meant for _her_? She shivered, horrified.

Although she wanted nothing more than to run screaming for the MPs and have them arrest everyone in the damned pub, Rebecca tried to remain calm, fighting the surge of adrenaline. The last thing she needed to do was draw attention to Havoc’s impaired state.

Was the bartender in on this? Or had it just been the guy who bought her that stupid drink?

Either way, they both needed to get away from this place before whoever had drugged Havoc made their move. He’d probably be all right once the drug was out of his system—all of the others had been. But she wasn’t about to just pour him into a cab and leave him to the mercy of some stranger.

“Jean, let’s get out of here, huh?” she suggested.

“You’re th’ boss,” he said, dreamily. “Well, Mustang’s th’ boss, but then really Hawkeye is cuz he does whatever she says when she looks at him all scary, an’ since you’re her bestie I bet she’ll go ‘long with whatever _you_ say. So that makes _you_ th’ real boss.”

Rebecca opened her mouth to argue, but Havoc’s drunken logic did make a certain sort of sense. And if it meant he’d come along without making a scene, why not roll with it?

“That’s right,” she said, slipping his arm over her shoulder and wrapping hers around his waist. “So we should definitely go now, since I’m the boss and I say so.”

Shit, did he have the coordination left to walk? No way she’d be able to drag his dead weight through the streets.  Rebecca took a few experimental steps, tugging on him gently.

“Whoa,” he said, staggering a bit and only just managing to remain upright. “Why’s ev’rythin’ so floaty? Oh, hiya Becca. Where’re we goin’?”

“We are going somewhere that is not here, my man. Come on, use those big, strong muscles of yours, that’s it,” she coaxed. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

“M’kay,” he said amiably. “Never argue with a lady,” he mock whispered to a young couple passing them on the sidewalk. The girl covered her mouth to hide her giggle, and the young man rolled his eyes.

“Please ignore him, he was just a little overserved,” Rebecca said apologetically, amused in spite of herself.

She did start walking faster, however.

Hopefully she was just being paranoid. Maybe Jean was just drunk and this was completely unrelated to the recent drugging-and-mugging incidents.

But what if she was right? Suppose someone followed them? They were too vulnerable. She wouldn’t be able to protect Jean _and_ hold off whoever might target them. Not on her own. Even an unrelated mugger could take advantage of them at this rate! And supposing there were more than one assailant?

Catalina looked around for a cab as they walked, even knowing it was useless. No respectable cab drivers would be willing to pick up such an obviously inebriated person as Havoc – they’d be far too concerned about his getting sick all over the upholstery. But she couldn’t manage the entire walk home with him like this. And dammit, what if he blacked out completely? Carrying him was out of the question. She was barely managing _with_ his cooperation; dead weight would be impossible.

She needed help.

There was a phone booth several blocks away, and Rebecca made for it with such single minded determination that she didn’t even realize Havoc was talking at first.

“Why’re you so damn perfect?” he mumbled.

“I – what?” she said, caught off guard. Was he back to the tired pick-up lines?

“You’re all – smart. And funny. And perfect,” he sighed. “Brains is one thing, ya know? Could be okay if you jusht had brains, cuz then mebbe you wouldn’t care th’ _I’m_ not smart, since ‘least I’m nice to look at. And strong.”

“And so humble too,” Rebecca muttered, rolling her eyes.

“But, noooo,” Havoc went on obliviously. “You hadta go and be damn gorgeous _and_ badass too, and I don’t even stand a _chance_.”

“Jean, you’re drunk,” Rebecca protested, ignoring the flutter of her gullible heart. “Well, drugged. Or something. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yuh- ** _huh_** ,” he insisted, pouting slightly. “Mebbe if you weren’t so damn budif—be-yew-tif – pretty,” he sighed. “ _Then_ mebbe you’d believe me when I try an’ say nice things. But guys say nice stuff to you all the time, right? So I’m just one more guy sayin’ the same ole stupid thing. And you never even notice I mean it.”

“Jean,” Rebecca said, helplessly. Was he – was he actually _serious_?

No, no way, he couldn’t be…. He couldn’t possibly mean any of the things coming out of his stupid gorgeous mouth.

Right?

“Wish I had better words for you,” Jean went on, mournfully. “You deserve nicer words, like poetry, and songs, and…stuff. But m’not the smartest guy, ya know? I’m just me. Why’d you ever want just _me_? Ima norom…normon. Mornom?”

“Moron?” Rebecca supplied, trying very hard not to giggle. Damn him anyway, why’d he have to be so talkative when stoned out of his mind like this? And so _sweet_?

“Yah, one a those,” Jean agreed with a sigh. “You’re my favorite. But  ‘s’hopeless. Ima-a starkrost thingummy. Lover.”

_Star-crossed lover_?

“Cripes, Havoc, warn a girl before you say something sappy and sentimental like that,” Rebecca choked out, flushing pink.

“Wouldn’t be the first time love made a fool of me,” he mumbled. “Shouldn’t even care, ‘cept now you’re here to see. An’ thass jus’ not fair.”

“Dammit, Jean,” Rebecca sighed. “Stop talking, please.”

He was killing her, here. Making her forget why falling for him was a spectacularly bad idea. He flirted with anything in a skirt, she knew that. She wasn’t special. And he was drunk! Well, _drugged_. Whatever! He was impaired; in no condition to know what he was saying or who he was saying it to.

Quoting song lyrics at her - who did that? Damn her naïve traitorous heart for melting a little anyway.

Rebecca manhandled open the door of the phone booth with one arm, and wondered what she was going to do with the drunk idiot leaning against her. If she lowered him to the ground, they’d _never_ get him back on his feet. She couldn’t just drop him, and she certainly wasn’t willing to leave him propped on a bench or something like that out of her sight – that wouldn’t be safe.

Nothing for it then. With a twist and a shove, she pushed him into the phone booth. Crowding in after him, Rebecca carefully maneuvered Havoc into one corner, where he sort of slumped against the glass, braced by her arm on his chest and his own locked knees. She sighed heavily and reached for the phone to dial the familiar number. Havoc started to slide down a little as it rang, and she swore as she used a hip and her shoulder to shove him hard against the glass.

They must look ridiculous with him half-draped over her like this. All solid, warm muscle pressed up against her side, smelling faintly of aftershave…something clean and woodsy and deliciously masculine.

“Fuck,” Catalina swore softly.

“…Rebecca?” asked a tiny voice.

“Riza!” Rebecca cried, clutching the receiver closer to her ear. “Oh thank god I got through, where are you right now? Can you come pick me up? Please?”

“Yes, of course,” Hawkeye said without hesitation. “Where are you? Are you all right? What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain when you get here, but the short version is that I ran into Havoc a bar and I think he’s been drugged, and I can’t leave him here, Ri, but I can’t flag down a cab with him like this, and I’m out of change for the phone and you were the first person I thought to call,” she said all in a rush. “Please tell me you can borrow Mustang’s car, because I need help getting him home safe!”

“Just tell me where to meet you,” Riza said, just as the operator informed them that more money would need to be inserted to continue the call.

“5th and Cardiff, please hurry!” Rebecca cried, just before the call disconnected.

As she settled the phone back onto the receiver, she took stock of her surroundings. It was late, and she was alone and unarmed  in a slightly dodgy part of town, crammed into a phone booth under a broken streetlight with a very attractive, semi-conscious man who may or may not be drugged but was definitely incoherent and currently unable to stand on his own.

To make matters worse, she also had an ill-advised crush on the aforementioned man. Who was very well-known for his flirtation with and flattery of most every female who crossed his path. And who was at this very moment leaning heavily against her and breathing literally down her neck, after having just rambled on for two solid minutes about how much he liked her. Using words like ‘perfect’ and ‘favorite’ and ‘love.’

Rebecca let her head thump against the glass door. What the hell was wrong with her? The guy was out of his poor damn mind right now, and here she was thinking about how his cheesy-ass pick-up lines made her stomach flutter? About how wonderful his (solid, strong, gorgeously muscled) arms would feel wrapped around her? About how fucking nice he smelled under the harsh odor of stale cigarette smoke? About how lovely those plush, smirking lips would feel against her own? Given his reputation, it wouldn’t last more than a week, but…heaven help her, she was starting to think it could be worth the inevitable heartbreak.

“Please hurry, Riza!” she whispered fervently.

“Hawk’s a good egg,” Havoc murmured unexpectedly. “Kinda gal you want watchin’ yur back, ya know? Scary smart. Loyal.”

“She is that,” Rebecca said, fondly. She tried to adjust Havoc’s bulk, and ended up having to drag his arms around her neck so he wouldn’t fall. To outsiders, she supposed it would look like an amorous couple getting cozy in a phone booth. Of course, the reality was that she was barely able to stay upright with Havoc’s full weight draped over her like a particularly odd cape.

God, this was awkward. Maybe she should get him to sit down, now that Riza was on her way to help – surely between the two of them they’d be able to maneuver him back up and into the car.

Even as she reached for the door, a movement from the shadows caught her attention. Rebecca froze. They were being watched.

And not by some innocent bystander.

“Shit, fuck, damn,” she swore softly. “Jean, can you stand? Jean? Hey, you still with me?”

“Always, if you’d let me be,” he murmured.

“Goddammit Jean, this is not the time,” she hissed. “Come on, you great hulking idiot, help me out and get those legs working! I can’t carry you on my own!”

Jean made a soft sound of agreement and shuffled his feet, clearly trying to obey her command. But he didn’t have the coordination or balance to stand up straight under his own power. Rebecca swore viciously under her breath. They were fucking trapped here. Jean was helpless without her, and she was helpless to protect either of them if she was hindered by his dead weight.

Bracing herself, Rebecca twisted and shoved Havoc hard against the wall of the booth, wiggling free and leaving Havoc to stagger and then collapse in a jumble of uncoordinated limbs. His ass hit the ground with a heavy thud, and Rebecca winced at the sound of his head cracking against the booth door. His knee was twisted at an odd angle, too, but she couldn’t worry about that now. Not if there was someone out there trying to hurt him. Them. Whatever.

She wrestled open the door of the booth and glared into the shadows all around them. Belatedly, it occurred to her that she was still unarmed. Her hand-to-hand skills were adequate, but if there were multiple attackers, she was shit outta luck.

_Someone_ was out there. She could feel the weight of unseen, unfriendly eyes. Licking her lips, Rebecca waited, staring into the shadows that were staring back at her. There was another flicker of movement, and she tensed, bracing herself.

A sudden squeal of rubber on pavement drew her attention to the main road. The sight of Mustang’s car careening toward them nearly made her weep with relief.

The vehicle came to a sharp stop right in front of her, and Hawkeye was at her side in seconds, gun in hand and vehicle still running.

“Riza! Oh, thank god,” Rebecca cried. “I am so glad to see you; you have _no_ idea…”

“Are you all right?” Riza asked tersely, sweeping the surrounding area with wary eyes. “And could you possibly have picked a sketchier place to wait for me?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” her friend huffed in reply. “He’s gone now. I think you scared him off when you came tearing around the corner like that.”

“Who, Havoc? I thought you said – ”

“No, no, there was someone watching us,” Rebecca hastened to explain. “I think he’s gone, now.”

“What?” Riza asked sharply.

Rebecca filled her in as quickly as she could, starting from the free drink and Havoc’s oddly sudden onset of inebriation. After reminding Riza about the recent spate of muggings, she gestured at the alley opposite them.

“Then I saw something move over there, just before you arrived. Whoever it was is gone now.”

“Well, let’s not wait around for him to come back,” Riza said sensibly, holstering her weapon and turning to the phone booth. Taking in the crumpled heap that was her drugged teammate, her eyes widened. “Shit, is he _okay_?”

“He may have a bruise or two tomorrow from where I dropped him,” Rebecca admitted sheepishly. “But aside from that I think he’ll be fine. All the other victims have slept it off, right? Do you think we should take him to the hospital anyway?” she asked, suddenly worried again. Riza was kneeling beside him, now, lightly shaking his shoulder.

“Havoc? Can you hear me?” Riza asked, her voice gentle.

“Hiya, Hawk,” Havoc murmured sleepily. “M’okay.”

“Sure you are,” she replied, shaking her head. “Come on. Let’s get you off the ground.”

Some careful maneuvering, a bit of swearing, a scraped elbow and a banged knee later, the three of them were free of the phone booth and moving cautiously to the car. Rebecca clambered into the backseat first, pulling while Riza pushed, and between them they managed to get Havoc settled with his head and shoulders in Rebecca’s lap and the rest of him sprawled across the backseat.

Riza did one more security sweep as she moved around the car to the driver’s seat. Satisfied that no one was watching them, now, she took the wheel.

“Hospital?” Rebecca proposed again.

“If it’s the same as the others, then he’s been given a rather benign drug,” Riza mused.

“ _Benign_?” Rebecca interrupted, incredulous.

“Yes, well, when taken properly and not against one’s will, obviously,” Riza said with faint amusement. “From what I understand, it’s quite safe, as far as sedatives go. It should be out of his system in seven or eight hours. A doctor won’t be able to make him metabolize it any faster, and aside from some mild nausea and dizziness, there aren’t any significant side effects.”

“How on earth do you know all of this?”

“Warrant Officer Falman was with us when you called. He’d done a bit of independent research into the drug when he first heard about it in the papers, and was kind enough to share his findings with me when I mentioned your fears that Havoc might be another victim of the same group.”

Rebecca snorted, picturing Vato giving his superiors an impromptu lecture on the appropriate usage of sedatives and the side effects thereof.

“All that to say, we might was well take Havoc home and let him sleep it off.”

“Let’s take him back to mine,” Rebecca suggested. Surprised, Riza met her eyes in the rearview mirror. Rebecca flushed a little, but shrugged. “It’s closer. And on the ground floor. You wanna try dragging him up three flights of stairs?”

“Excellent point,” Riza chuckled, and turned right instead of left at the next intersection. “Your place it is then. Now, where were you when this happened?”

Rebecca ran through the whole story again as they drove, filling in the details she’d skipped the first time.

“I’ll have the Colonel call Investigations to have them set up a stakeout of that bar, and maybe a few others nearby,” Riza said. “None of the other victims could even recall which establishments they’d patronized prior to their attacks. Assuming this is the same guy, they might finally make some progress with the investigation. I wonder what made them target you in particular…”

“We’re both in our civvies, so I assume it’s nothing to do with being military,” Rebecca said, frowning.

“And neither of you are particularly dressed up, either –no fancy jewelry or watches or what have you that might attract the attention of a thief. Perhaps it was just due to opportunity?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. Maybe sitting alone and appearing to be a fairly low-risk target was enough.”

“Well. I’m sorry he was drugged, of course, but I _am_ very glad that Havoc showed up when he did,” Riza said softly. “One of the female victims was…” Rebecca looked up sharply as Riza trailed off, but Riza wouldn’t meet her eyes in the mirror.

“Fuck,” Rebecca breathed. Riza tightened her grip on the steering wheel but didn’t speak. They were silent for the remainder of the drive.

When it came time to extract Havoc from the back of the car, Rebecca spared a moment to be grateful that the dosage he’d been given had been intended for a smaller person. Although he still lacked the coordination to move under his own power, he wasn’t _completely_ dead weight, either.

“Good call on the first floor apartment,” Riza gasped, staggering slightly as Jean stumbled drunkenly over his own feet.

“I have my moments,” Rebecca managed, shifting a bit to fish her keys out of her pocket. “Hang on a sec…there!”

Triumphant, she flung open her door and led their odd little procession into the living area. Midway through lowering Jean onto the couch, Riza lost her grip on him, resulting in an undignified collapse on his part.

“Oof – sorry, Havoc,” Riza said, wincing.

Crumpled in on himself with his legs still on the floor, Havoc made a soft noise of acknowledgment in his throat but didn’t open his eyes. Riza bent to lift his feet while Rebecca tugged gently to free the arm he’d trapped underneath himself, and shoved at his opposite shoulder to roll him over. Between the two of them, they got him stretched out comfortably on his back.

Riza surveyed their work for a moment before moving away to rummage in the linen closet. Rebecca sighed and gingerly settled a hip on the cushion beside Havoc.

“Here,” she murmured, carefully tugging his boots off. “Let’s make you a bit more comfortable, huh?”

“We should turn him onto his side. Just in case he gets sick,” Riza suggested, returning with a light blanket in hand.

“Oh, right, makes sense,” her friend agreed.

It took another moment of shoving and tugging to get him situated according to Riza’s instructions. Riza then disappeared into the kitchen, searching for some kind of basin he could use if it became necessary, leaving Rebecca to spread the blanket out over him. Jean sighed and curled into himself a little more.

“You okay there, Jean?” Rebecca asked, frowning.

“Mm. S’nice,” he mumbled, nuzzling the blanket. “Soft. Smells like you.”

Rebecca was used to Riza moving without making a sound, and so she didn’t startle when her friend spoke from directly behind her.

“Oh, Havoc,” Riza sighed. She knelt to place a large bowl beside the couch. “You poor sweet idiot,” she murmured, half under her breath.

His only reply was a soft snuffling snore, and Riza shook her head with gentle amusement.

“I should get back; get news of this to the appropriate channels,” she said, finally looking up at Rebecca. “Will you be all right?”

“It’s not like Jean’s gonna try and take advantage of me when he’s passed out on the couch, Ri.”

“Not what I meant,” Riza said wryly. Rebecca sighed.

“Sorry; I know,” she said. “I’ll be fine. _We’ll_ be fine. I’ll keep an eye on him; make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit or anything. I’m not one of his tarts-of-the-week, you know.”

“Rebecca.” Riza’s tone was dark, angry. An unspoken warning.

Taken aback, Rebecca could only stare at her friend. Riza had _never_ used such a tone on her before.

“What?” she finally asked.

Riza stayed silent for another long minute, her expression unreadable. Then her eyes flicked to Havoc’s face, smashed against the couch cushion and half-nuzzled into his borrowed blanket. The glance down and back was so fast that Rebecca would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been staring right at her. Suddenly hyper-aware of how close she was still sitting to the unconscious man, Rebecca felt her face heat.

“It’s not like I’m gonna take advantage of him, either!” she snapped, immediately defensive.  Even as she lashed out at Riza, she knew it was unfair, and she hated herself for it.

“I wasn’t implying that you would,” Riza replied calmly, apparently unruffled by her friend’s hostility.

“Then what _are_ you implying?”

“Havoc is...” Riza hesitated, and then sighed heavily. “Listen. I know you would never be intentionally cruel,” she said softly, obviously choosing her words with great care. “Please, just… don’t be _unintentionally_ cruel, either.”

Rebecca reared back as though she’d been slapped.

“What?” she gasped. Riza winced but didn’t look away.

“He cares for you a great deal,” she said firmly.

“He – Riza,” Rebecca demanded. “What exactly are you trying to _say_?”

Riza swore softly and rose in one swift, graceful motion. She took two short steps away as if she was going to run for it, and Rebecca rose as well, intending to stop her. But Riza stopped just as suddenly as she’d started and spun on her heel to face her bewildered and hurt friend.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said, unsteadily. “It’s really none of my business; you’re both adults. It’s just that…he’s not the Lothario everyone seems to think he is, all right? And he’s not _you_ , but he’s still my friend.”

“What are you –?”

Realization struck, and Rebecca’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “You think – you think he’s _serious_. With the flirting and the cheesy come-ons. You think he actually means something by,” she gestured somewhat wildly. “By all of that crap he says to me.”

Riza didn’t answer. She didn’t have to – the look of mingled remorse and entreaty on her face was answer enough.

“I don’t fucking believe this,” Rebecca managed.

“Rebecca…”

“You! You’re actually giving me the shovel talk - shouldn’t this be the other way around?” she cried, growing hysterical. “Aren’t you supposed to be warning HIM not to break MY heart?”

“This is exactly why I shouldn’t have said anything,” Riza murmured. “You’ve always assumed he was only joking.”

“And you believe he honestly cares for me? More than any other of the dozens of women he constantly flirts with? That I’m going to – what, break his heart on accident?”

“Yes.”

That one, single syllable stopped Rebecca’s rant in its tracks.

“What?” she whispered.

“I’m sorry, Rebecca. I shouldn’t have said anything at all,” Riza said softly. “But the two of you are constantly teasing each other and flirting back and forth, and I know you _think_ he says the same sort of thing to everyone, but…it’s just you. He’s completely hopeless, obviously, but he’s also absolutely sincere.”

Rebecca seriously considered swooning, but the floor was so far away. And her couch was currently occupied by the cause of this whole insane conversation.

 “I just…I thought you should know,” Riza went on, miserably. “I know you’re angry with me, and justifiably so; what goes on between you two is really none of my business, but –”

“Oh, Riza,” Rebecca interrupted her. With a soft sigh, she took a step forward and reached out for her friend. “I’m not angry with _you_. Come here,” she ordered. She pulled Riza into a crushing hug, ignoring her half-hearted protests. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I _never_ would have thought...”

“I know,” Riza interjected softly. “That’s why…I knew you didn’t take him seriously.”

“Well, how in the hell am I supposed to take him seriously when he’s dropping cheesy pick-up lines left and right and-and quoting sappy poetry and love songs at me?” Rebecca complained, resting her head on Riza’s shoulder.

“I never said he wasn’t a moron,” Riza said dryly. “He _means_ well. He may have the soul of a romantic, but he’s utterly clueless.”

Rebecca sighed again and turned to look over her shoulder at the slumbering man.

“Seems he’s not the only one around here who’s been clueless,” she reflected quietly. Riza frowned, but before she could say anything, Rebecca was steering her toward the front door. “Hey, you should get going. You still have to get Investigations pointed in the right direction,” she said, offering Riza a weak smile.

“You’ll be all right?” Riza asked, still frowning slightly.

“We’ll be fine,” Rebecca assured her. “I promise I won’t stomp all over Jean’s fragile male ego when he wakes up. I won’t even tease him for drooling all over my couch,” she added, with a spark of her usual humor.

Riza huffed out a tired little laugh.

“All right, then. Call me in the morning?” There was still a note of uncertainty in her voice, and she carried herself with an unfamiliar rigidity as she moved towards the door.

“Sure. Hey, Ri?” Rebecca said. “You’re a good friend, okay?”

The effect of her words was instantaneous – Riza all but sagged with relief, the lingering tension in her frame dissipating as if it had never been there.

“Thanks,” she said softly, eyes bright. “Good night, Becca. Love you.”

“Love you _more_ ,” Rebecca insisted, and the two women exchanged another brief, affectionate embrace.

Once Riza had gone, Rebecca returned to the living room to stare at the attractive moron snoring peacefully on her couch.

“You freaking idiot,” she hissed at him. “I am not _nearly_ drunk enough to deal with this! You have **zero** game, you know that? Stale pick-up lines and tacky love songs?! We are going to talk about this when you’re sober! _Awake_! Whatever; you know what I mean!” she said, and poked him hard in the forehead before stomping off into the kitchen in search of vodka.

In his sleep, Havoc just smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to curligurl0896, who suggested the word "trite" for me.


End file.
